Courage
by Orion-and-his-dog
Summary: The boy will live, the boy will triumph, the Potters did not die in vain.
1. Chapter 1

When Peter looked down at the boy in front of him, he expected to see a version of the terror he felt inside himself. He expected to see the face of someone who yearned for the cold earth his friends were buried in. After all, there was no life without James and Lily, no life without the Marauders. But when Peter looked into those emerald eyes, he found himself facing the very friends he'd betrayed. He saw James, strong, full of vitality, brave. He saw beautiful, kind Lily, courageous as ever, defiant, powerful. He saw Sirius, exhilarated, determined, passionate. He didn't see the shell of an orphan he'd been imagining all these years, he didn't see what he felt; lonely, guilty, frightened. He resented this child for reminding him of the life he could've had, alongside these wonderful people. And so Peter looked down his wand at the boy and he readied himself to murder another person who was braver, better, more loved than he was. But Peter was brave, for the wrong reasons, and Peter was loyal, to the wrong person, and Peter let himself think just for a second what his life could've been, who he could've been. And in that second, for the first time since he'd scuttled to Lord Voldemort that rainy October evening all those years ago, Peter knew. Peter really knew that he'd been wrong and Sirius had been right. _You should've died! Rather than betray your friends! _He should've died. _I should've died. _He should be dead. With that thought the grip on his wand slackened, his own hand drew itself to his throat, cutting off his lungs from the dank dungeon air. Yes, Peter thought, let me die. Let me die and let him live, and let him win. Peter begged with the God he'd stopped believing in, let James and Lily's son triumph and _let me die_. Peter met death just as he'd met Lord Voldemort, pitiful, cowardly, begging for a life. At least this time it wasn't his own.


	2. Chapter 2

Severus Snape's eyes searched in anxious, bitter anticipation. Skating around the great hall he yearned for a sign of those emerald eyes. Just like he did every year, Snape yearned to be transported back to when he was 11, back when he looked across a sea of people and felt a nugget of comfort in that vivid green. He didn't expect to see them, he never did, but even just looking brought a bit of the childish dream that Lily Evans still lived, and still loved and could still calm his heart in a blissful second. All with those beautiful green, green eyes. So imagine the shock when Severus' eyes meet those emerald ones, for the first time in 15 years. But they don't belong to Lily. Severus knows this, he does. He knows what he did. He's painstakingly aware of the part he played in her murder. Yet... here she is, duplicated, staring at _him_, looking at _him_. But it's not Lily. He realizes with a sickening chill that this must be the boy. The son he is bound forever to protect. The son he simultaneously adores and despises. His lovely Lily in the body of her arrogant, cruel _husband_ (just thinking word produces acid on his tongue). A conflict rages inside Severus. He is this boy's protector, this boy's guardian if you will, and yet the desire to strike him down rears an ugly head inside his chest. Because this boy is living proof Lily chose James, Lily didn't choose him, Lily is _dead_. But It's because of this last fact that Severus Snape tears his eyes off the child in front of him and Severus Snape swears to a God that killed Lily Evans, _Harry Potter will live. _Severus will not let those emerald eyes die on him a second time.


	3. Chapter 3

Regulus smiled at his brave little elf, and tried to say "it's okay, this isn't your fault..." But he simply choked and sunk to the ground, weakness enveloping him, smothering him. He didn't mean to do this to the poor elf, he thought as his eyes latched onto the only sane thing on his blurry horizon. Kreacher was stricken, wide eyed, and staring in tortured horror as his master paled and shook. "Water..." Regulus choked, Kreacher looked panicked but scuttled down to the edge of the lake where water met rock, the locket his master had just pressed into his palm swinging round his neck. As the convulsions of Voldemort's potion possessed him, Images of his brother burned themselves onto the inside of his eyelids. Every time he closed his eyes he saw him. Sirius; laughing, grinning wickedly, at ease, happy. Something regulus never managed - something regulus was never brave enough to be. Regulus thought of his brother now though, at the height of his agony, and he had the courage now to fight for what he was sure Sirius wanted. He would fight for the end, he promised to the god that made him a Black and refused him the courage to be like his brother, that he would die for the end of lord of voldemort. That the Potter boy would win, Sirius' side would be triumphant. The inferi pulled his weak body under the surface, "Go Kreacher, leave!" And Regulus died like his brother, brave, believing in the end.


End file.
